Chapter 15
Milow
It had bothered me. A lot, actually. The way Hailie and Aspen talked to Ashby.
The way they talked about me without a single ounce of shame in their voices.
I had learned early not to give them the attention they were desperate for.
That was what they wanted most. A reaction.
A reason to continue being mean. But it seemed that even with my silence, they got more annoyed.
I’d always had trouble with them, from the very beginning.
On my first day of school, they decided it was their job to explain me to everyone else.
They told every single kid in our grade that I was mute.
They told them I was different and that I didn’t talk because I thought everyone else was stupid.
None of that was true. I never even dared to think things like that.
I was just a scared seven-year-old, trying as hard as I could to listen to the teacher, understand the rules, and be good and obedient, like my father had taught me to be.
I was brave every single day I walked into that classroom, even though I sat alone in the very front.
Even though I could hear the whispering and giggling behind me, and all the comments that were never meant to be kind.
I remembered one day clearly. I turned around in the middle of class after Hailie called me an unwanted, parent-less orphan. The words hurt, and I wanted to tell her two things. First, that 'parentless' and 'orphan' meant the same thing, and, second, that she was being cruel.
But I couldn’t say a word. All I could do was stare at her… and flip her off.
She told on me, of course, and I had to listen to my teacher explain why flipping someone off wasn’t okay.
There had been more moments like that over the years, but I learned how to survive them without making things worse.
I never gave Hailie and Aspen what they wanted, and I focused on school and my friends.
I stayed silent, because there wasn’t anything I could do.
Even when they laughed, even when they talked about me like I wasn’t right there, I learned how to ignore it. Or at least how to pretend I did.
I picked at the loose skin around my thumb, my gaze locked on my hands while the party carried on around me.
Usually, I only picked at my skin when I was anxious, but sometimes, it happened out of boredom.
At some point, we’d moved into the living room.
People filled the space, but I’d stopped listening a while ago.
My focus shifted to staying awake because my eyelids kept drooping, no matter how hard I fought it.
My body slowly sank deeper into the couch. Ashby must have noticed. He leaned closer, his shoulder brushing mine.
“Tired?” he asked quietly.
My gaze flicked up to his, and I gave a small nod.
“Do you want to go home?” There was a hint of hope in his voice. He’d only come for me. I knew that. But I also knew he’d been having fun—at least before Hailie and Aspen showed up and ruined the mood.
I shrugged and glanced around the room before looking back at him. [Do you?]
He shrugged too. “Yeah. I think I do.”
Relief settled in my chest. I nodded again. [Okay.]
His mouth curved into a smile, like he’d already made the decision before I did. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “I’ll text Wesley,” he said.
He typed quickly, his thumb moving fast across the screen.
I watched him with a smile on my lips. Ashby was always ready to get me out of places I didn’t want to be.
It made me feel protected, but sometimes, it also saddened me.
Because what would happen when we got older?
As adults, he couldn’t be by my side the way he’d been all this time.
He’d move on. He’d go to college, most likely become a big athlete, and find someone new.
It was selfish of me to think that he’d stay by my side forever, but I desperately wanted him to.
“All right,” he said a moment later, slipping the phone away. “He’s on his way.”
My shoulders finally loosened. I leaned back into the couch, the tiredness catching up with me now that I knew I didn’t have to stay much longer. Ashby remained right there beside me, his knee brushing mine, and I told myself not to think too hard about that simple touch.
“I’m really sad you’re leaving already,” Scottie said moments later as she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tight, “but I’m really glad you came.” She pulled back just enough to look at me. “Did you at least have fun?”
I nodded, and when she let go, I smiled and signed, [Lots of fun. Thank you for inviting me.]
“Are you kidding?” she said immediately. “Next time, you’ll be the only one I invite.” She scrunched her nose, glanced around the room, then lifted her hands again. [I’m sorry those girls were being so mean to you.]
[It’s okay. I’m used to it.]
Her brows pulled together. “Yeah, but you shouldn’t be. Next time they act like that, you come and tell me—”
“Or me,” Stan added from her side. “I seriously can’t stand those girls. It’s bad enough that every word they say is filled with hate, but they also reek of rotten eggs, which really doesn’t help their case.”
I pressed my lips together and looked up at him, trying not to smile at his words.
As much as I disliked Hailie and Aspen, I refused to be cruel the way they were.
Sure, I’d flipped them off more than once over the years, and yes, in my head, they were still witches, but that was as far as I ever went.
“Thanks for that, Stanley,” Scottie said, patting his arm before turning back to me with a smile. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
I nodded. [See you at school.]
“Bye, Ashby,” she added, pulling him into a quick hug before he and Stan fell into their usual handshake routine.
Stan turned to me next, winked, and pulled me into a hug that lasted a little too long, like it always did. “You’re way smarter and way prettier than those girls,” he said firmly. “And you always smell nice. Don’t forget that.”
When I stepped back and looked up at him, his blue eyes were serious. There was something else there, too. Anger, maybe. He’d always hated seeing anyone go after me, which, when we first met, I had thought he’d never be nice to me. Thankfully, Stan turned out to like me, which made me happy.
[Thank you, Stan.]
“You’re very welcome, Milow,” he said with a grin. Scottie rolled her eyes next to him.
“If he were even half as charming with me as he is with you…” she muttered.
“Hey, I am charming with you,” Stan argued. “You’re just always mad at me.”
“I’m not always mad at you,” she shot back. “And when I am, it’s because you make me mad.”
They kept bickering, the same way they always did, while Ashby gently guided me out of the house and toward the street, where Wesley’s car was already parked and waiting.
As we got closer, I noticed Evie sitting inside with Wesley. She smiled as soon as she saw us and lifted her hand to wave. I waved back before Ashby opened the door for me, letting me slide in first, then climbing in beside me.
“Hey, you,” Evie said warmly, turning in her seat to look at me. “How was it? Did you have fun?”
[Yes, it was fun,] I signed, my smile a little restrained. [I don’t think parties are really for me, though.]
She nodded, as if she understood that completely. “That’s okay. At least you tried it once.” She reached back and gently rubbed my knee, then glanced at Ashby for a brief moment before looking at me again. “How do you feel about ice cream?”
“Ice cream?” Ashby repeated, eyebrows knitting together. “Right now?”
“Yeah,” Evie said easily. “I’m craving it.” Then she smiled at me. “What do you say?”
I was exhausted, and my head felt foggy from the tiredness ready to overcome my body, but there was no world in which I would ever turn down ice cream. [I’m up for ice cream.]
“Perfect,” Evie said, grinning as she turned forward again. “Let’s go to Sutter’s.”
Wesley gave a nod and reached out his right hand, placing it on Evie’s thigh.
She placed hers on his, and, immediately, it reminded me of Mom and Dad.
Holding hands had always meant something to me.
It was strange. I had no one to hold hands with—not like Mom and Dad, or Evie and Wesley.
But I used to hold Ashby’s hand a lot before falling asleep next to him when we were younger.
We didn’t do that anymore. But when he held my hand back at the party, in secrecy and hidden from everyone around us, it made me wish I could hold his hand again more often.
I let my mind drift, looking out of the window as we drove to Sutter’s.
Sutter’s was the only gas station in Bowen, and the only place in town that somehow had better soft-serve than any fast-food place.
We’d been going there since we were little.
Some of my favorite memories were the hot summer afternoons when Wesley took Ashby and me there, just for ice cream or a cold can of pop, the three of us sitting outside on the wooden porch when we had nowhere else to be.
“By the way,” Wesley said, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Mom and Dad are still on their date. They went to the city, and they’ll stay the night.”
I smiled at that. I always missed them when they were gone, but it made me happy knowing they were still so in love and still choosing to spend time alone together. Now that we were older, and Wesley was home to look after us, they went on dates more often. I loved that for them.
“That’s nice,” Ashby said quietly beside me.
I turned my head toward him at the same time he looked at me. Our eyes met, and for a second, neither of us looked away. We both smiled, and my heart, as it always did, picked up its pace and throbbed hard in my chest.
My gaze drifted down from his brown eyes to his hand resting on his thigh. His fingers flexed, like he was thinking about it too. My own hand curled in my lap.
We were thinking the same thing, but neither of us moved. We were too shy and too aware of the moment that we just kept smiling, pretending not to notice that what we felt for each other had already grown into something bigger than we were ready to understand.
At Sutter’s, we went inside and headed straight for the soft-serve machine. The shop was empty except for Sutter himself, who shuffled out from behind the counter to refill the stack of paper cups beneath the dispenser. His long white beard moved as he spoke. “You kids doing okay?”
“Doing great,” Wesley answered easily. “You?”
“Ah, you know…” Sutter grunted as he straightened and ran a hand through his beard. “Same old, same old.”
“I heard a rumor you’re closing up,” Wesley said, and the old man immediately frowned.
“That’s all it is, boy. A rumor.”
“Good,” Evie chimed in with a grin when she started filling her cup. “Because you have the best ice cream in all of B.C.”
Ashby handed me a cup, and I took it, thanking him by leaning into his side. “What will you get? Vanilla?” he asked.
I pursed my lips and studied the four soft-serve flavors.
I always chose vanilla. It was my favorite, and Sutter’s vanilla actually tasted like vanilla, unlike the bland kind from other places.
For a brief moment, I considered something else, my gaze lingering on the hazelnut option, but I decided against it and nodded.
Once everyone had their ice cream and Wesley paid, we said goodbye to Sutter and stepped outside to sit on the wide wooden porch steps. I started eating right away, but my attention kept drifting back to Ashby because tonight, instead of his usual chocolate, he had chosen hazelnut.
When he caught me staring, he smirked and leaned closer. “You wanna try?”
I met his eyes, realizing he had only picked that flavor because I had hesitated earlier. He had noticed something so small, and it meant more to me than I could explain.
I nodded quickly, and when he held the plastic spoon out to me, I leaned in to take a bite. He watched me closely as the ice cream melted on my tongue. “Do you like it?”
I nodded again. It was really good. In all the years we’d come here, I had only ever gotten vanilla. Sometimes chocolate. Never hazelnut or strawberry. I didn’t like strawberries. Wesley and Evie loved it.
[It’s delicious.]
“Do you want to switch?”
I thought about it for a few seconds. [Okay.]
“Baby, you want to switch too?” Wesley asked Evie, his grin teasing.
She laughed softly. They had clearly been watching our little exchange. Then she nodded and handed her strawberry soft-serve to Wesley, who had also chosen strawberry.
“You suck,” Ashby muttered, though a smile tugged at his lips.
Heat crept into my cheeks, and I dropped my gaze to my new ice cream, suddenly very focused on not looking at him. Because if I had, my whole face would’ve turned bright red.